Between the Acts
by SSMcPriceley
Summary: Connor McKinley, the famous actor, is dead. Murdered. It's all over the papers. His boyfriend Kevin Price has been arrested, but there's one small problem. They haven't found the body yet.
1. Chapter 1

"I didn't do it."

"That's what they all say Mr Price. Nine out of ten, they're usually lying."

"Maybe I'm the one that's not."

"Maybe."

Kevin sighed and sat back in the chair, his hands still shaking slightly. His lawyer picked up a pen on his desk and began clicking it incessantly. Kevin watched him for a moment growing more irritated by the second.

"Do you mind?"

His lawyer placed the pen down and opened up a brown paper file. He lifted the top sheets out from underneath to look at the ones below.

"A good clean record, a respectable man in the community, excellent testimonies of your character" He said while running his finger down some printed type, "So what drives a man like you to do something like this?"

Kevin's eyes glanced down where the man's fingers had gestured to, instantly wishing he hadn't. He bit his lip at the brash headline printed across the newspaper.

'Blood But No Body: Famous actor presumed murdered in a locked room mystery, the authorities are still finding evidence and trying to locate the body. The police have detained one suspect thought to be close to the victim.'

"It would help a lot with the investigation, speed it up you know, if you just told us where the body is."

"I didn't do it."

"So you said Mr Price. But between you and me, where is it?"

"He. Not it. He. And he may still be alive. Have you thought of that?"

"The amount of blood found in your apartment doesn't exactly point to that conclusion. Obviously not much can be done until they find it, that's where you come in. That's why we're here."

"I thought you were meant to be aiding my defence."

"Well you don't really have one I'm afraid."

Kevin rubbed his eyes with his hands trying to remember the last time he'd slept. The questioning seemed to be going on and on. He hadn't even had time to process what had happened. One moment he'd been in his office and before he could open the door to his car to go home, he'd been arrested.

"So what happens now?"

"Unless some new evidence comes to light, you're stuck here. If you want my professional opinion-"

"Well that's what I'm paying you for."

"Of course, well, I think you should confess."

"I didn't kill him!" Kevin slammed his fist on the table, his voice shaking in anger. He didn't know how long he'd have to repeat the words for.

"I can't just take your word for it Mr Price."

"Then I don't know what to say." He closed his eyes and then, lips barely moving, he spoke in a low whisper. "I didn't kill Connor McKinley."


	2. Chapter 2

Arnold folded up the latest newspaper that he'd bought and placed it on top of the others. It wasn't the first time he'd made a collection comprised of things with Kevin's face on them.

A clap of thunder outside roused him from his thought and he went to draw the curtains. They were too frail to do much about blocking out the sound of the heavy rain. He almost missed the knock at the door.

Chris Thomas stood on his doorstep, water trickling down his face, wet hair plastered to his cheeks.

"Can I come in?" He almost had to shout over the storm. Arnold nodded and stepped aside. Chris stamped his feet on the mat and hung up his dripping coat.

"I'll get you a blanket," Arnold said hurriedly, rushing up the stairs.

"You don't have to," Chris called after him, trailing off as Arnold disappeared into an upstairs room. He stood awkwardly in the hallway waiting for him to return.

Chris found himself grateful for the warm blanket Arnold draped over his shoulders, touched by this act of kindness.

"Come in and sit down. I'll make tea."

Chris nodded numbly, knowing that Arnold's tea wasn't the best, but appreciating the gesture all the same.

Arnold didn't say anything as he boiled a kettle and poured two mugs. Chris wrinkled his nose at the odd smelling fruit tea placed in his hands. He closed his hands around it, warming his freezing fingers.

"So, why are you here?" Arnold asked, knowing the answer but not sure how to address it.

Chris sighed and took a tentative sip of his tea, instantly regretting it. He pursed his lips, trying to rid his mouth of the bitter taste.

"I don't think he did it."

Arnold let out a clearly pent up sigh of relief at the words. "Thank goodness you think so too," He said as he exhaled, a weak smile brightening his face, "I thought I was the only one."

"It's pretty much just us," Chris said ruefully, his expression grim. "I just, Connor...he can't be..."

Arnold put an arm over Chris's shoulder, patting his back with what he thought was support.

"You're right, they were really happy."

"I mean they used to fight, but, never would he..."

"No."

There was a pause as they sat in silence for a moment. They both jumped at the buzz on the counter top. Arnold picked up the phone and took one glance at it before dropping it again. It skidded a few inches away towards Chris.

"What's wrong?" Chris looked at Arnold's shaking hand then at the phone screen. After a sharp intake of breath he and Arnold shared a nervous glance.

'Incoming call: Connor McKinley.'

"Answer it." Chris mouthed before repeating himself after no noise came out. Arnold raised the phone to his ear and paused before a deep breath.

"Hello?"

He started as he heard a voice down the other end. Chris leant forward to try and catch the words.

"Is this Arnold?"

"...Connor?"

"What? No, um, my name's Rob and I just picked up this phone and rang the first contact. I thought someone might want it back, it looks quite expensive. It belongs to a Connor you say?"

"Yeah, he's...well, this could be really important. Where are you? I'll come pick it up straight away."

"I'm in Pinedale."

"Where?"

"Pinedale, Wyoming."

"Wyoming!"

Chris's eyes widened at Arnold's exclamation, leaning in closer to better hear the speaker on the other end.

"But how did it get there?" He muttered, "He was here in New York, he hasn't left at all during his show's run. What's his phone doing in Wyoming?"

Arnold waved his hand so he could listen. He finished up the conversation and put the phone down. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Kevin doesn't have an alibi for the time they say Connor was murdered." He swallowed before continuing. "But, they say it happened and the killer was out there within three hours. That's not long enough to get to Wyoming and back."

"I knew he didn't do it." Chris jumped up from his chair allowing the blanket to slide to the ground. He quickly picked it up before almost running to the door, pausing to grab Arnold's hand.

"Where are we going?"

"First to the police, then to Wyoming."

"What?"

"This is the kind of thing that could prove Kevin's innocent! And, ok maybe shoot me for hoping, but, I think Connor might still be alive."


	3. Chapter 3

"What's this do?"

"It's a lie detector Mr Price."

"It looks like a torture machine."

The assistant chuckled before receiving a glare from his superior. He bowed his head and took a seat next to the reader.

"The wires can be a bit intimidating, but it's necessary Mr Price."

"What happens now?"

"Someone will be with you shortly Mr Price, I just set up the machine."

"You can call me Kevin."

The man nodded before gathering his papers and moving to the door. He turned back to Kevin and sneered. "No thank you, I prefer not to be on close terms with murderers."

Kevin let out a frustrated sigh and examined the pads now connected to his pulse points. He glanced up to see the assistant still eyeing him.

"What're you looking at?"

"Nothing, sorry, I just...you're Kevin Price right?"

Kevin looked between him and the large mirror on one wall suspiciously. He wondered who was behind it watching him.

"Isn't it written on your clipboard or something?"

"Oh yeah, I guess," The man laughed nervously, "It's just, Connor McKinley, I'm a big fan."

"Uh huh..."

"So?"

"So what?"

"Did you do it?"

Kevin rolled his eyes and faced the opposite wall, willing for someone to come and rescue him. He encountered these people often, but they usually just wanted an autograph or some juicy story. As if Kevin just kept copies in his pockets all the time.

The door opened and a woman entered. She smiled quickly, a smile that didn't reach the eyes, before dropping her files and mug of coffee on the desk.

"My name's Janie Shelter, now we're pressed for time, so onwards." She withdrew a piece of paper with a list of questions before scanning the list.

"How may are there?" Kevin asked suspiciously as she flicked the paper and continued on the other side.

"These are just the control questions, I only need to ask a few and then I hand you over to a cross examiner. Ok, ready?"

"I guess."

"What color is the sky?"

"What?"

"You just need to answer truthfully to each question."

"Um...blue?"

"Great, and where were you between half past four and seven last wednesday?"

"Shopping."

"Shopping?"

"Yes."

"And then you returned to the office at around 7pm?"

"Yes."

"Ok." Janie gave a nod to the assistant who ripped off the paper slip that had just printed. "That's all for now, there'll be more questioning, but you're free from that thing."

She gestured to the wires that Kevin was already shaking off. An officer came into the room and led him down the corridor where he was met by another officer who in turn led him to another room.

The cop motioned for him to take a seat at a table set with three spindly plastic chairs. He then proceeded to handcuff him to the leg before leaving him alone.

"Kevin?"

Kevin's eyes snapped open just as he was about to dose off. Two men entered, matching grim expressions on their faces, settling into the pair of chairs.

"I'm Detective Holden and this is my associate Detective Reid. We're just going to ask you a few questions," The larger of the men said, flicking to a clean page in his notepad.

"Let's get started. Last Wednesday Connor McKinley left the theatre after the matinee performance and didn't return for the evening performance. Did you see him in that time?"

"No."

"Did he contact you at all?"

"Yes, he texted."

"We have your phone as evidence and have already read the text, but just for our records, if you could repeat what it said, that would be very helpful." Detective Holden nodded towards the tape recorder where the reel was slowly turning in the record setting.

"He asked me to come to the theatre, sometimes we just order food and hang out before his evening show."

"And why didn't you this time?"

"As I said, I was busy."

"So you did say, shopping wasn't it."

Kevin bent down so that he could rub his eyes with his handcuffed hands. It didn't really matter what he said, no one seemed to be believing him.

"Where did you get the chloroform Kevin?"

Kevin looked up meeting the eye of Detective Reid, the first words he'd spoken so far landing thick in the air.

"The what?" He replied quickly, swallowing on a seemingly endlessly dry throat.

"You heard."

"I didn't know, I thought he was..."

"Stabbed?"

"Yeah."

"Well we believe he was, we even have the weapon. But, there were traces of chloroform including the empty bottle left at the crime scene. There was also rohypnol found in one of the two glasses. Some had been drunk, but we believe the full effect was achieved with the chloroform."

"I wouldn't know how that works." Kevin shook his head and fixed his gaze on the blank wall above the men's heads. It was beginning to hit him that if they really did suspect him, he would never discover the truth either.

"Rohypnol leaves the victim with a twelve hour blackout and memory loss afterwards. But it takes a while to kick in. You got impatient? Needed to speed things up? Hence the chloroform."

"There is really nothing more I can say. I didn't see Connor at all that day. In fact I didn't spend that last night in our apartment, I was staying with a friend."

"Have you thought about telling us where the body is yet?"

Kevin felt the two pairs of eyes burn into him so closed his own trying to find some peace of mind. He wished he could help, but more than anything he wished he wasn't so calm about the whole thing. It hadn't hit him yet and he just felt numb, the interrogations didn't really help with his acceptance.

"We're rebuilding that day as best we can," Detective Holden took back over, "It's just those few hours we'd like your help with."

* * *

"Great show Connor!"

"Thanks," Connor smiled at his dresser, watching him disappear with his wigs in both hands. He grabbed his phone from his dressing room table, made a quick tweet, then texted Kevin.

'Meet me at the stage door? Chinese takeaway maybe? Xoxo'

It didn't take long for the phone to buzz.

'Sorry babe, busy this afternoon xxxxx'

Connor was familiar with that amount of kisses. It meant Kevin was up to something. He brushed it off putting it down to some sort of surprise he must have planned.

A stage manager poked their head round his door. "You going out before this evening?"

"I might do now, why?"

"You have a very insistent fan waiting for you."

"Oh God."

The stage manager laughed. "I can just tell them you're not coming, but don't worry, they seem harmless."

"They all do at first, the next thing you know they're clutching your arm trying to internalise your aura."

"I think this one just wants you to sign some things. Plus, he's pretty cute."

"He?"

"Just go sign his playbill, take a photo, and then come back in, we'll watch some tv until half hour."

Connor glanced at his phone and the latest text from Kevin before shrugging, pocketing a pen, and heading down towards the stage door.


	4. Chapter 4

"You were so amazing!"

"Thanks, you want me to sign that for you?"

"Thank you I've been waiting ages to see you in something."

"Oh really? How long?"

"Years."

"Well that's nice."

"I'm your biggest fan."

"Really?"

"Can I come to your apartment?"

"Excuse me?"

"Can I come back to your place?"

"Umm, I'm really sorry but, I don't let fans into my personal space."

"What if I showed you these?"

"Where did you get those?"

"I can come now?"

"Where did you get them?"

"I'll take that as a yes."

* * *

Arnold leapt up immediately at the sound of his doorbell, dodging his wife a little clumsily to get there quickly.

"Hey, Chris, it's you," He said breathlessly stepping aside to allow him enter. "And you brought James, ok."

They took off their coats and came into the living room, greeting Naba as they sat down.

"What is this? The resistance?" Naba smiled at the boys who returned smiles with effort.

Arnold set mugs in all their hands and then gestured to a wall, all the furniture moved away from it, covered in photos and clippings. "I collected all the stuff that might help us."

"What've we got so far?" Chris got up and leaned into the various pieces of print, squinting at the photos.

"Not much."

"What we need is time and also something to prove that Connor's real killer is still on the loose."

"It's almost like we need to commit a murder," James chuckled wryly, "Or fake one."

There was an awkward pause as they all thought about what James had just said.

"I'll get everyone refills," Naba said, more to break the silence than anything else, swooping to pick up the mugs and disappearing into the kitchen.

"I was joking," James quietly apologised, "But you know, just splash some blood around my place, I could disappear for a while. It would be easy..."

He'd been looking down at his mug, fiddling it with his fingers, but as he trailed off he glanced upwards. They were both staring at him.

"Say it like you mean it," Chris said quickly.

"What?"

"How would you fake a murder? Like you were doing, carry on."

"Umm, a lot of blood, a fake murder weapon, the person would have to vanish, and then I'd make sure to frame someone..."

Arnold turned to the wall and ripped off one of the pieces of paper to look at it more closely.

"They found chloroform in his room. There was tonnes of blood, I saw it myself."

"They can't have tested all of it, maybe it wasn't all his."

"Some of it must have been, they found traces on the knife, and there was some hair."

Naba came back with the renewed mugs of tea just in time to hear that line, she promptly turned back the way she came.

"So maybe he wasn't killed, maybe he was kidnapped..."

"But by who? And who'd want to frame Kevin?"

* * *

"This is a nice place you've got Connor."

Connor smiled uneasily at his unexpected guest. He didn't mind really, but chinese takeaway with Kevin and then a show did seem the more preferable option.

"Drink?"

Connor looked confused. "Sorry I don't have much to offer."

"No, it's ok, I brought some."

His visitor produced a bottle of champagne. "Do you have glasses?"

"Yeah, but...why?"

"I just thought we should make a toast."

"To what?"

"To celebrate these." Connor looked at the items his guest had tossed on the table, the same he'd been shown at the stage door.

"I'm no ordinary fan, if I should call myself that at all."

"I guess not." Connor picked one up off the table and stared at it. Several thoughts were rushing through his head, most importantly how had this man got hold of these? They wouldn't be much good for blackmail.

"I have more."

"I don't need to see anymore," Connor looked up quickly.

"I'm sorry we had to meet this way. Over these. I'd imagined it differently."

He popped the cork of the bottle, prompting Connor to produce two glasses.

"Who's that?" He gestured to a photo on the wall over Connor's shoulder. Connor turned around to get a better look.

"My mother, I'm surprised you don't recognise her."

"Oh yes, I see now. Here's your drink."

Connor turned around to accept the drink the man handed him. Connor took a sip and immediately wrinkled his nose. He placed the glass back down on the table.

"Sorry, old habits die hard. I never much liked the taste of alcohol."

"Well there's only one way to get over that, you should drink more." The man laughed nervously pushing the glass back towards Connor.

Connor eyed it with faint distaste. He wasn't the same Mormon he'd been, he did sometimes drink, but hardly ever and never very much.

"Sorry, I can't."

"Please."

"No."

"For me."

Connor raised an eyebrow at the strange desperation in the man's voice. He played with the glass in his hand for a few moments then replaced it.

"No, sorry."

"Oh, well who's that?" The man pointed at a photo behind Connor.

Connor turned around, his back to the man, to identify the photo. He smiled.

"Ah, well, that's my boyfriend Kevin. That was taken just after we-mmph!"


	5. Chapter 5

"Mr Price please sit down."

"Oh God not you again." Kevin almost felt like turning on his heel and leaving the room as he saw his lawyer sitting at the table.

"Please take a seat."

"Why?"

The lawyer began his incessant tapping on the table, his fingers rapping out an irregular rhythm that Kevin thought was going to drive him insane. He sat down almost to stop the noise than anything else.

"Thank you." Kevin rolled his eyes at the polite pretence. He knew what they all really thought of him.

"Aren't you going to handcuff me this time?"

"No need Mr Price."

"Why?" Kevin ran a hand round the back of his neck a growing sense of suspicion washing over him.

"There's been a new development in your case."

* * *

Naba sat mugs of tea in front of Arnold, Chris and James. They were all staring at the wall Arnold had designated for their own private investigation that was now almost fully covered.

"So you finally took the phone in," James said with a sense of relief. Arnold had driven up the day before to collect it.

Pinedale Wyoming was a small nondescript town. He'd driven round the streets a few times vaguely hoping he might see Connor on a street corner, but no luck.

They'd taken the phone to the police station along with the other information they had discovered. They'd sat for a few hours at the station waiting for any news that they might have helped to clear Kevin's name. After a short while an inspector had told them that it was extremely useful and would hopefully help find Connor, but even without it Kevin would probably be out soon. He couldn't give them any more details.

"Was that all he said?" Naba asked. Chris sighed and nodded.

"I guess it means they're close though, right?"

"Maybe."

* * *

"Have you ever heard of Netryion?"

"Excuse me?"

"No I didn't think so. But, that's a good thing, today might just be your lucky day."

Kevin tried to find some sincerity in his lawyer's eyes but failed on all accounts.

"What's Netr...or whatever?"

"I only know as much as the next man, but they're an underground trading company. We've been trying to shut them down for years but they're an illusive bunch. We think they may have Mr McKinley, and there's the slim possibility that he might still be alive."

"I don't understand."

"We had identified a base in Wyoming. A friend of yours brought in his phone yesterday and had found it there. The base has long been shut down but we have reasons to believe it might be being used as a temporary holding place. You'll appreciate that I can't give you all the details."

"No one seems to be able to." Kevin's tone was bitter but he was beginning to realise what this could mean. He thought about how much better he'd feel with Connor by his side.

"I've been told just as much as you Mr Price."

"This trading company, what do they trade in?"

"Now don't panic just yet," he said after a very long pause. "Mr McKinley could very well still be alive."

"Why would I panic?"

"Ok, well, it's bodies."

"What?"

"It's the illegal organ trade. We think that's what's happened to Mr McKinley."

* * *

Connor opened and closed his eyes but all he could see was darkness. He was lying on something soft, but his feet were curled up due to the cramped space, and he was far from comfortable.

He groaned as he tried to move resorting to small movements once he realised how much pain moving just slightly caused him.

He could hear a soft hum below him and every so often he could feel movement swinging him from left to right.

He felt around with his fingers, trying to find the outline of something. A shot of pain ran through his head adding to the dull ache there. As he ran his hands over the sides, the thought that he might be in the trunk of a car came to him, before he passed out again.


End file.
